Halo
by iamthejabberwocky
Summary: Rewrite of Helena of Trebond's "What Might Have Been"-AU. QuiGon survived the fight with Darth Maul, though his injuries left him unable to take Anakin as his Padawan, though he will be trained. Obi-Wan, meanwhile, goes on a mysterious undercover mission with severe consequences-and what are these visions of his about?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **As mentioned in the summary, this story is going to be a re-write of _What Might Have Been_, by Helena of Trebond. She gave me her permission to take over the story, re-writing and hopefully completing it eventually. We discussed her original ideas for where the story would go, and I am going to stick with her basic premise while adding my own ideas to the concept. I hope readers of the original work enjoy this, and for anyone just discovering this, I hope you check out the original as well. Thank you!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own these characters or concepts relating to the Star Wars universe, and I am making no profit from this work.

* * *

Qui-Gon woke with a groan, allowing the Force to swirl around him before slowly prying open his eyes. He was greeted by the harsh, bright lights of an infirmary, though he knew instinctively that he was not in the Halls of Healing at the Temple—he wasn't even on Coruscant, for that matter. He struggled to recall where he was and what had happened to him. _Naboo_, his memory whispered, aided by the Force, _in the palace infirmary_.

He sat up, and quickly lowered himself down again with a hiss as unanticipated pain shot through his abdomen. "Mister Qui-Gon!" he heard, and smiled tensely through the pain. That was Anakin, he remembered, the little boy he'd met on Tatooine not very long ago—_Anakin_, the Force hummed, _the Chosen One_.

"Hello, Anakin," he answered, his voice rasping through pain and disuse, "how are you?" The boy's aura churned around him with anxiety, and Qui-Gon frowned.

"I should be asking you that, Mister Qui-Gon," Anakin answered. "You were asleep for a long time—more than two days." The boy bit down on his lip, shifting from foot to foot. "We were worried about you."

"I wasn't asleep, Ani," he said, smiling reassuringly at the boy. "Not really. I was in something called a healing trance, taking care of my injuries." Anakin nodded.

"You mean the injuries you got from fighting that Sith guy," he said. Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow in silent inquiry. "I overheard Mister Obi-Wan telling Master Yoda about what happened, about the fight." At least Anakin had the grace to look contrite at his eavesdropping, Qui-Gon thought wryly. But the young boy's words had sparked a series of memories in him, and, being too weary to suppress them, he closed his eyes and allowed them to play out.

* * *

_He had fallen to the Sith Zabrak and now lay still on the cold metal floor, eyes glazing over—a lightsaber hole ran straight through his abdomen. He saw his padawan behind the red wall of energy, saw him scream, but could not hear it. He saw only bits of the fight after Obi-Wan engaged the Sith; it was nothing like Obi-Wan's usual style of fighting. Instead of the smooth, graceful movements Obi-Wan had learned after a time, they were jerky and harsh._

_ Qui-Gon could sense his padawan's negative feelings—his anger at the Dark Force-user who had injured his master, his fear that Qui-Gon was going to die, and his frustration with himself for allowing it all to happen._

Let go of your negative feelings, Padawan, _Qui-Gon murmured through their bond. _You cannot win by pitting your Darkness against his; you must be calm. _He felt Obi-Wan falter, and in that moment he fell into the hole that led to the reactor's core._

_ Qui-Gon wanted to curse at himself, but he lacked the energy. He had distracted his padawan from the task at hand, and in doing so gave his opponent the opportunity that he needed. But at least Obi-Wan was alright—somewhat, anyway. He was clinging to a light attached to the side of the hole several feet below them. Again the Sith took to pacing, running his lightsaber along the edge, sending sparks down at Obi-Wan. A few moments later Qui-Gon saw his padawan's lightsaber follow him down._

_ It took only a few seconds for Obi-Wan to gather his strength and use the Force to propel himself up and out of the hole. He summoned Qui-Gon's lightsaber to him and began to fight again. Though the Darkness was still within him, he had pushed it to the back of his mind, not having time to release it into the Force. Qui-Gon saw his apprentice sever the Sith's double-bladed lightsaber, giving him only one to work with._

_ After that, Obi-Wan made short work of him. Qui-Gon felt a rush of relief and pride as his padawan cut the Sith's body clean in half and send it tumbling down the hole to the core._

_ Obi-Wan rushed to his side, falling to his knees and pulling Qui-Gon's head into his lap. He could sense his apprentice's intention of healing him and murmured, "No, it's too late..." He had accepted already that he was going to die. He was calm, knowing that he would soon be one with the Force, and tried to share that calm with Obi-Wan—through the bond, he felt his padawan recoil at the feeling._

_ "No," Obi-Wan murmured aloud, sounding as though he were close to tears. "No-"_

_ "Obi-Wan, promise... promise me you will train the boy," he said, voice hoarse. He was quiet for a moment, waiting for Obi-Wan to respond. He didn't. "He is the Chosen One... he will bring balance... train him."_

_ "No," Obi-Wan replied forcefully, "I will not train him."_

_ "Obi-Wan, please..." Qui-Gon could feel himself growing weaker, the Force gathering around him, whispering to him gently, pulling him away—Qui-Gon pulled away from it. He had to convince his padawan to train Anakin..._

_ "No!" Obi-Wan said loudly, nearly shouting. Qui-Gon saw tears in his eyes. "I won't have to—you're not... you aren't going to die, Master."_

Oh, Obi-Wan... _he thought through the bond, _I know this is hard for you...

_"Train him for me," Qui-Gon said softly, "when I've gone." He closed his eyes and now allowed the Force to envelop him, beginning to fill him. He was going, soon. He felt himself being carried off, and then-_

_ And then he was being pulled down again. _What...? _ Had he the strength then, he would have groaned aloud in frustration. Obi-Wan was trying to heal him. He knew it wouldn't work—his injuries were too extensive, and his padawan had only limited connection to the Living Force... He waited for Obi-Wan to exhaust himself, and allow Qui-Gon his rest._

_ But it _was_ working, he realised after a moment. He could _feel _the damage the Sith's lightsaber had done healing—the muscles were pulling themseves to gether, the bone healing itself until it became merely a normal break, rather than puncturing his lung, the skin healing above it all..._

_ It was by no means fully healed, but he knew now that he would live. _But at what cost? _he asked himself, and slowly opened his eyes. He saw Obi-Wan slumped over him, his eyes closed and breathing ragged. His Force signature, usually so bright and vibrant, had dimmed to a mere shimmer around him._

He gave his energy to save me, _Qui-Gon thought dizzily. _Oh, Padawan mine, how foolish of you. Saving an old man like me...

_Though he wanted to ensure that Obi-Wan would be alright, he did not have the energy. He surrendered himself to sleep._

* * *

When he opened his eyes, Anakin was no longer there, his spot in the chair next to the bed taken by Master Yoda.

"Awake, it is good to see you," said the small troll. "Died, you nearly did."

"I know," Qui-Gon answered ruefully. "Obi-Wan saved me. Where is he? Is he alright?"

"Fine, he is. Back to Coruscant, he has gone," answered Yoda. "Left he did, when told you would live." Qui-Gon's brow furrowed.

"He left without us?" Yoda nodded.

"Pleased with you, he did not seem. Happen, something did." Yoda frowned, humming to himself, his ears lowering. "A very dark presence, the Sith's was, in the Force. Unbalanced him, it may have." Qui-Gon felt a chill pass over him at the thought of the defeated Zabrak, and nodded. It was certainly enough to unbalance him, and Obi-Wan was younger and more sensitive to such things. It made sense.

"I will speak to him when we return," Qui-Gon assured the Master, and Yoda nodded.

"The boy, young Skywalker-"

"Allow me to train him, Master," Qui-Gon interrupted. Yoda continued on as if he had not spoken.

"Trained, he will be."

"Thank you, Master," Qui-Gon said, relief flowing through him. The boy's training would be much easier with the consent of the Council.

"My padawan, he will be." Qui-Gon's jaw slackened in shock, his eyes blinking rapidly at Yoda.

"_Your_ padawan?"

"Hear me, you did," said Yoda, countenance serious but eyes sparkling with amusement.

"But-" Qui-Gon began to protest, falling silent as Yoda held up a small, green hand to stay him.

"Train him, I will," insisted Yoda. "Rest, you will need. And restrict your movement, this injury will, for some time." Qui-Gon was forced to admit that the elder Jedi had a point. But he had already promised Anakin that he would train him—the Force had hummed between them, their connection so strong already...

"But-"

"Asked him, I did. Agreed he has, for understand, he does," said Yoda, and although the amusement remained, there was an edge of finality to his words. Qui-Gon sighed, knowing that this was a battle he would not be able to win. Anakin would be trained, though, and he did feel immense relief knowing that he would not have another Padawan...

Again his thoughts turned to his apprentice. "Obi-Wan..."

"Knighted, he will be, for killing the Sith," said Yoda. "His final trial, this mission was, though knew it, he did not." Qui-Gon beamed, freely broadcasting his pride into the Force. He had _known_ that his padawan was ready for the Trials—he had been right. "Go to Ilum, he will. Find a new crystal, he will, and return for his ceremony." Qui-Gon nodded, and frowned slightly at the odd look on Yoda's face. It felt as though he were hiding something, but he was too exhausted to ask what.

"Sleep, now, you will," Yoda murmured, pushing a sleep suggestion at him. Qui-Gon glared without malice at the diminutive Jedi, and then slept again.

* * *

The trip back to Coruscant was not a particularly comfortable one for Qui-Gon. Despite the large, well-equipped ship Queen Amidala had provided for them, he was barely able to sleep those five days back to the capital. The bed was certainly large and comfortable enough, and the food—while rather bland, at the insistence of his Healers—was good. It was neither hunger nor physical discomfort that kept him up—the now mostly healed wound in his abdomen barely even ached anymore.

No, what kept him awake when everyone else was in their beds was a feeling, a sense, that something was _wrong_. Qui-Gon was nowhere near as sensitive to the Unifying Force as his padawan, but he, too, had the occasional feeling of warning. He had first felt that something was amiss when he woke on Naboo, in the infirmary. Qui-Gon had then attributed it to his recent encounter with the Sith agent, knowing that such use of the Dark Force could upset the balance around him for some time after. But it persisted, even after they were far from Naboo and any lingering evidence of the Sith's presence. He began to wonder, then, if he was actually experiencing one of his rare hints of the future.

In the meantime, Qui-Gon did his best to ignore it. He knew that there was little he could do about this feeling other than acknowledge it and try not to let it overwhelm him. Instead of focusing on the vague hints and sensations of warning whispered to him by the Force, he thought of what he would do when they got to Coruscant. He would have to give his report to the Council, obviously, as Yoda had been the only one to receive the full details of events on Naboo, and then...

What _would_ he do? If he still had his padawan with him, his days would be full of training, overseeing lessons and teaching. He could still teach, of course, but his training was limited; though the wound no longer hurt all of the time, Qui-Gon knew that it would if he over-exerted himself. As for overseeing lessions... well, he no longer had a padawan to oversee, did he?

He frowned, thinking for the thousandth time of Obi-Wan's strange departure. While he knew that the loss of his 'saber would bother his padawan, with it having been his first and only 'saber, it was rare that Qui-Gon was without Obi-Wan's constant, calming presence. The Force whispered to him once again, and he sighed. Yes, there was definitely something... abnormal about this, about Obi-Wan at the moment. He reflected, yet again, on Yoda's conviction that it was this disturbing imbalance in the Force caused by the Sith warrior, and settled himself against his pillows. Once his padawan had had time to meditate and find his balance, Obi-Wan would return. _And_, Qui-Gon thought, brightening, _he would be Knighted_.

However... the sheer _rage_ he had sensed from Obi-Wan after he had fallen to the Sith had been more than a bit discomforting. Coupled with the fear, Obi-Wan's first attempts to fight the Zabrak had been clumsy, rooted in his anger rather than the tranquility of the Force. Qui-Gon felt a chill once more as he thought of Xanatos, but dispelled the notion forcefully. Obi-Wan was nothing like his former apprentice—he was kind, filled with good humor, hard-working (though Force knew he hadn't needed to be, in many areas already well advanced for his age), and he was neither cocky nor as stubborn as Xanatos had been.

There was a knock on the door, and Qui-Gon welcomed the interruption to that train of thought. "Come in," he said, not bothering to move from his position. He was lying on the bed, staring at the grey ceiling of the cabin.

The door slid open and Anakin stepped into the room. The boy had been remarkably patient and understanding with him, given his previous outbursts. Qui-Gon had expected him to be more upset about this turn of events than he was, and was pleasantly surprised when Anakin just smiled and said that it was okay for another Jedi to train him. He was just glad to see that Qui-Gon was alive and healing.

"Hello, Anakin," the Jedi greeted him. He smiled, amused by the sight of the boy's hair cut into the traditional padawan style. A very small braid just barely poked out from behind his right ear, and Qui-Gon could easily envision how it would grow to be long and full of the beads and ties symbolising the different trials he would undergo on his path to becoming a Knight.

"Hello, Master Qui-Gon," he answered. "Master Yoda says that I have to call you that now because that's what padawans call the Jedi Masters. It shouldn't be too hard to remember, since I called you Mister, and that sounds a lot like Master." Force, Qui-Gon had forgotten how much the boy could talk! He had not seen much of Anakin in the past few days; Qui-Gon had rested much of the time and Anakin had been receiving special training from Yoda in an effort to prepare him for life at the Temple.

"How are things going with Master Yoda?" Qui-Gon asked. Anakin shrugged, a small grin on his face.

"It's okay, I guess," he answered. "He's nice and all, but a bit too... serious, like he has to think really hard about everything he says. I think you would've been more fun." Anakin's tone was speculative, and slightly sullen, but without a touch of regret. Qui-Gon chuckled openly.

"In time, Anakin, you will learn to see Master Yoda's own brand of humor for what it is," he assured him. "How are the lessons going?"

"I don't know how I'm going to remember everything!" he said, sounding rather dismayed. "All that information about the sorts of things padawans have to do, and all the classes I'm going to have to take, and learning how to fight with a lightsaber..." Anakin continued to tell him about his concerns, and Qui-Gon allowed himself to be caught up in the young boy's speech. He wondered if he had ever been that enthusiastic, and did not think of Obi-Wan or the strange, nagging feeling for another few hours.

* * *

When they did arrive on Coruscant less than a day later, Yoda took Anakin off to the quarters they would share together, leaving Qui-Gon with nothing to do but return to his own quarters. Wanting to put it off for as long as possible, rebelling at the idea of returning home without his padawan, he went to one of the meditation gardens. Finding himself a secluded, quiet corner, he sank to his knees and gathered the Force around him.

Qui-Gon did not know how long he spent in meditation. He guessed that it had been several hours when he was finally drawn out of his trance by his commlink going off; switching it on, he saw an alert and summons from the Council, no reason given.

Frowning, he rose and stretched for a moment before making his way through the corridors to the Council chamber. He paused to nod at a few Knights and Padawans he had not seen for several months, since he and Obi-Wan were last at the Temple, but no one stopped to engage him in conversation, no doubt sensing the anxiety and tension he had been unable to release fully into the Force. All too soon he found himself in front of the Council door, and he paused a moment to collect himself before entering.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **This is where those of you who are familiar with the original story are going to notice major differences. I assure you that the basic plot structure will remain the same, but I couldn't reconcile Obi-Wan's original course of action with his character, deeply affected by something troubling or not. Helena agreed with me, and we reworked some of the plot elements to account for this.

Also, not all updates will come this quickly-I just wanted to post some more of this since I may be unable to give you more this weekend.

I hope you all enjoy it.

* * *

"And once you reached the hangar bay? What happened then?" prompted one of the Council members. Qui-Gon had, several moments ago, closed his eyes and stopped speaking as he reached this point in his narrative. He had gotten trhough the rest of it without any problems, telling the Council everything that had happened after the release of the poison gas into the room where he and Obi-Wan had been kept waiting through their escapade on Tatooine and up until that point. They had heard parts of it before, from Anakin and Obi-Wan, and asked few questions.

"We—Obi-Wan and I—fought the Sith that had been following us since we first encountered him on Tatooine," Qui-Gon began, uncharacteristically stumbling over words in places. He had to fight to get them out.

"Qui-Gon." His eyes opened at the sound of Yoda's voice. The aging Master was staring at him with sympathy shining in his eyes though his face remained as impassive as ever, and he continued, "Tell us later, you can. Rest now, you should. Tired, your injury must make you." They both knew that his injury had nothing to do with the reason Qui-Gon couldn't bring himself to talk about it—a chill had gone through him just thinking about that overwhelming darkness they had faced, and the added stress of his padawan nearly giving his life to save him. Recognising the dismissal, Qui-Gon bowed, preparing to leave when Mace's voice halted him.

"There is one other matter," he said, and leaned forwards, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. "Your padawan's ceremony." Qui-Gon immediately felt the worst of the chill dissipate in the face of the pride and buoyant happiness he felt for Obi-Wan. "He will return from Ilum soon, he has said—within the next week.

"What I wished to discuss was a personal request from your padawan." Qui-Gon's eyebrows quirked in question, as he had heard nothing from Obi-Wan on the matter of his knighting—nothing at all, as a matter of fact. "He wishes to have a private ceremony, rather than in the Hall of Knighthood." Qui-Gon frowned, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach and swirling in the Force around him at this news. It had been Obi-Wan's dream to become a Jedi Knight since the boy had been brought to the Temple, and his padawan was nothing if not the very definition of traditional and orderly. Why would he suddenly wish to break with this tradition? Especially for such a tremendous event?

"Know the reason, I do not," said Yoda, "but strange feelings, I sense in him. Order him to meditate on his return, I will. Speak to him then, you must." Qui-Gon nodded, the negativity around him calming somewhat as he recalled Yoda's words on the ship. _The darkness unbalanced him, and is making him—and me—uneasy. All will be well, in time._

"Thank you, Masters," Qui-Gon said before departing—one of the rare occasions with which it was said with complete sincerity.

"Worry for them both, I do," Yoda murmured quietly as the doors closed behind Qui-Gon's retreating form. "Sense a disturbance in the Force, I do. The key, Obi-Wan is, though how, or why, I know not."

"We will watch over them both," Mace returned. "That is all we can do."

* * *

As Mace had said, it was less than a week before Obi-Wan returned from Ilum with his new 'saber. Three days after the first of his meetings with the Council, Qui-Gon returned to his quarters late in the evening and, upon opening the door, sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly with a pleased smile. Though it was dark, and he could see nothing more than vague outlines, Qui-Gon could clearly sense his padawan's presence in their home. Taking a few careful, quiet steps, Qui-Gon saw Obi-Wan curled on the couch, his robe stretched out on top of him like a blanket.

Qui-Gon stood still for several beats, simply watching his apprentice, and then Obi-Wan began to stir, his brow furrowing, curling in on himself. Recognising, after long years with the boy, that Obi-Wan was having a nightmare, Qui-Gon reached out for him, sending comforting waves through their bond. "Obi-Wan-"

The instant Qui-Gon's hand landed on Obi-Wan's shoulder, the elder Jedi shrank back-

_Fear, anger, pain_—coming through the bond, coming from Obi-Wan—and then he heard it, as clearly as if his apprentice had shouted it aloud—

"_You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!_"

The anguish in these words was too much for him in that moment, and Qui-Gon clamped all of his shields into place, blocking the bond. Shaking his head, taking a moment to centre himself in the moment, Qui-Gon reached out for his padawan again.

This time, when he touched Obi-Wan, the other woke instantly. Only seconds later, Qui-Gon found himself on the floor, the beam of an orange 'saber hovering scant centimeters from his throat. Obi-Wan's eyes were wild and pained, but he was perfectly still, although breathing heavily, as he pinned his master to the floor.

"Obi-Wan," he murmured softly, lessening his shields and sending a light, tentative pulse of questioning, comforting warmth. "Padawan."

"Oh, Force," Obi-Wan breathed, instantly deactivating his 'saber, rolling off of Qui-Gon clumsily. "I'm sorry, I hadn't realised—" Qui-Gon sent another pulse to Obi-Wan who, this time, accepted it and closed his eyes, reveling in the warmth of the familiar presence.

When Obi-Wan's breathing had finally calmed, Qui-Gon stood slowly, not wanting to alarm him, and wordlessly made for the kitchen. Returning several minutes later with two cups of tea, he found Obi-Wan back on the couch, his cloak again drawn around him, staring blankly at his 'saber lying still on the floor. Putting both cups on the table, Qui-Gon pushed one towards Obi-Wan, and then reached down for the 'saber, placing it, too, on the table.

Obi-Wan reached for his tea with obviously trembling hands, and the two Jedi drank in the quiet and silence for a time. Qui-Gon released his own uneasiness into the Force and focused on sending calming pulses towards his padawan; anxiety, fear, and shame were rolling off of him in waves, and Qui-Gon waited until he had calmed further before speaking.

"Orange," he commented finally. Another wave of shame came from Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon chuckled. "Not the colour I would have thought for you."

"Master, I apologise-" Qui-Gon waved away his apology and inclined his head.

"I sensed your feelings, Padawan," he said gently. "Your dream was... intense, and violent. I do not blame you for reacting defensively. More importantly, you stopped yourself before doing any real harm." Obi-Wan, he could feel, was not entirely convinced, but his hands were steadier. Good. "I suppose I will have to become accustomed to seeing you without your customary blue 'saber, hmm?" He gestured to the weapon. "May I?" Obi-Wan inclined his head marginally without answering, and Qui-Gon exchanged his tea for the 'saber.

It was good workmanship, he noted as he turned it over in his hands. Wrapping one hand around its hilt, he weighed it and smiled as he found that Obi-Wan had managed to correct the imbalance that his first 'saber had suffered from. "A fine lightsaber," he murmured as he replaced it. A small spike of pleasure and pride at Qui-Gon's praise flowed through the bond, and Qui-Gon pushed back with more warmth.

"How did you find Ilum?" he asked, and Obi-Wan snorted.

"Frigid," he said, and finally looked at his master. "As it ever was." Qui-Gon smiled at him, and Obi-Wan looked away quickly, back down to the table and his rapidly cooling tea. "It did not feel like a dream, Master."

"A vision?" he asked with a frown. Normally visions did not cause such a dramatic impact upon Obi-Wan—yes, they would often unsettle him, but never to the point of violence. _But then_, Qui-Gon reflected, _it had never gotten to the point where Obi-Wan's feelings _during_ the vision were revealed to him, either._

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said. "They are... much more _vivid_ than any visions I've ever had before. I see it all so clearly, and I _feel _it—it's almost as if I were actually there."

"They, Padawan?" Qui-Gon questioned gently. "How long have you been having these visions?" Obi-Wan's mild self-rebuke at his slip reached Qui-Gon clearly, and he realised how shaken Obi-Wan must be for all of his shielding to have disintegrated in this way.

"Since the night I left Naboo," he admitted.

"Of course," Qui-Gon murmured. "I, too, find myself... disturbed by our encounter with the Sith. Such darkness..." Obi-Wan shook his head minutely.

"I don't feel as though that is the cause of these... visions, or dreams, Master," he said. "They come from... the Force, or myself, I can't say."

"Have you discussed these visions with anyone? Master Yoda, perhaps?" he asked, wondering if this were the reason Obi-Wan hadn't contacted him since they both left Naboo. Obi-Wan shook his head.

"I told Master Yoda that I had had these visions, but not... what they entailed." The disturbance—almost so strong as to become a physical illness, Qui-Gon felt—reached him clearly as Obi-Wan thought of these visions, these dreams. Again, he sent his padawan a wave of calm and comfort before speaking.

"You mentioned Anakin?" he asked, and again, a wave of unpleasant, dark emotions spilled forth from Obi-Wan—_fear, guilt, shame, anger_—and Qui-Gon took a deep breath, sending back as much light as he could. "Have all of these visions been about him?"

"Yes," Obi-Wan breathed quietly. Qui-Gon nodded contemplatively. "I don't wish to discuss them, Master. They are... disturbing."

"So I could tell, Padawan mine," Qui-Gon answered gently. "You can meditate on them tomorrow, before we meet with the Council. Perhaps you will be able to speak to Master Yoda in greater depth after that. If these visions involve Anakin, after all, he will be the one who should know first."

"Why?" he asked. "Does Master Yoda still object to Anakin's training?" Qui-Gon laughed, more heartily this time.

"Force, no," he answered. "He has taken Anakin as his padawan." Obi-Wan's gaze flew to his, then, obvious surprise etched onto his features that made Qui-Gon's shoulders shake in laughter again.

"Master Yoda? And Anakin?" Obi-Wan murmured. "But I had thought... you..."

"I have a padawan already, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon rebuked gently, and at Obi-Wan's wave of guilt, he sent reassurance. "For another few days, at least." Pride, he sent, this time.

"Why didn't you wait until my Knighting? You could have taken Anakin then," Obi-Wan pointed out.

"True," Qui-Gon acknowledged with a small inclination of his head, "but I neither have the physical capacity for training another youngling nor the desire. The Force does not pull _me_ to Anakin, Padawan mine, but tells me simply that Anakin must be with the Jedi."

"I can second that," Obi-Wan said ruefully, and so quietly that Qui-Gon barely heard it.

"Speaking of your Knighting," he began, "I heard about your request. Why would you wish to do so privately?" A torrent of emotions came from his padawan then, and Qui-Gon had to use his shields to lessen the strength of their bond in order to wade through them; guilt was chief among them, and that strange sense of shame again, and fear-

"It feels... wrong, Master," Obi-Wan said, and Qui-Gon sighed.

"You're in no state to make such decisions now, Obi-Wan," he said. "Sleep, now, and meditate tomorrow. You'll feel better then, and we can discuss this further." Qui-Gon stood, and smiled down at his padawan. "Take that as your last order from your Master before you become your own." Obi-Wan nodded and gave him a grateful, if strained smile, standing and heading for his room.

"Goodnight, Master."

"Goodnight, Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon's dreams were troubled as well, that night, filled with red and black skin, yellow eyes, familiar ginger hair, and a strange sense of foreboding.

* * *

The following morning, Obi-Wan was in the Meditation Gardens when the sun rose. There were few others in the garden then, only those non-humans whose sleep cycles were less restrictive than humans' were, and so he was left entirely alone, on his knees in deep meditation. Though his eyes were closed, the disturbing nature of his thoughts and feelings radiated from him as he worked through the past few weeks' worth of nightly visions, and even as the hour grew later and more Jedi sought the garden's peace for their own meditations, all carefully and instinctively avoided him—all except Master Yoda.

Late in the afternoon, he went in search of the soon-to-be Knight, and, upon finding him deep in meditation, the Force roiling around him in his attempts to understand and release the negativity thrust upon him, Yoda sank down into his own meditation, keeping himself in the lightest levels of his mind so that he would be alerted when Obi-Wan returned to himself.

It took several hours before this occurred, when the negativity seemed to fall away suddenly from Obi-Wan, leaving only purpose and determination, if not peace—that had always been more difficult for him to achieve, Yoda reflected. As the younger Jedi became aware of Yoda's presence, he shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged, waiting to be addressed.

Gently pulling himself back to the present, Yoda studied Obi-Wan for a moment before speaking. "More settled, you seem," he said, and Obi-Wan nodded, his relief obvious. "Worried, I was. Strange and disturbing were the Force's warnings, and you in the middle of them." Yoda's ears rose. "You, and my padawan." An uncharacteristic flicker of remorse, guilt, and jealousy were drawn from Obi-Wan at Anakin's mention, but he released them quickly into the Force. Yoda nodded. "About him, your visions have been?"  
"Qui-Gon told you, then," Obi-Wan said flatly, though there was only fond exasperation in his voice. Yoda nodded, and waited for more. "The visions—or dreams, for they have been unlike any other vision I have ever had—were... unsettling. Often violent, even."

"Yet peace with them, you have found."

"No," Obi-Wan revealed. "I still don't know what they mean, but I reconciled myself to the advice of my masters."

"Oh?"

"Yes. 'Live in the moment,' as my master says," Obi-Wan smiled as he quoted Qui-Gon, "and do not worry about what might be." He glanced significantly at Yoda, who nodded and gave a pleased hum. "I must wait for the Force to reveal my path to me."

"Then ready are you for the Meditation," Yoda said, and Obi-Wan paused before nodding, knowing that the old Master referred to the traditional day of meditation before the Knighthood ceremony. "Then reassure your master, you should.

"Come now. Meet with the Council, we must, and Knighted you will be."

Although the following day Qui-Gon performed the traditional duty of leading his padawan to the Tranquility Spire for his formal meditation, leaving him with a proud and joyful smile, when they returned the next morning to summon him to the Hall of Knighthood, Obi-Wan was nowhere to be found. Instead, he had left his roughly shorn braid and a note for his former master.

_Master,_

_ I am terribly sorry to leave in this way. I have done you a disservice in depriving you of my ceremony, which I truly regret. However, my leaving was not entirely of my choosing—please believe me when I say that I would have stayed if I could, but that was not an option._

_ I do not know when I will see you again, although I hope it to be soon. May the Force guide you as I believe it guides me now._

_ Peace be with you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Short chapter, sorry about that. Obi-Wan's visions take more of a central role here as we jump into the future!

And away we go...

* * *

_He was standing in an elevator, his back to the glass wall that overlooked Coruscant. His hands were folded into the sleeves of his Jedi robes, his face smooth and calm. He was the perfect model of the serene Jedi—quite the opposite of the padawan standing next to him. The young man fidgeted nervously, running a hand through his short hair and frowning. The elder Jedi could sense the nervous energy coming off of the boy in waves._

_ "You seem a little on edge," he commented._

_ The boy shifted from foot to foot rapidly and said, far too quickly, "Not at all."_

_ "I haven't felt you this tense since we fell into that nest of gundarks," he commented, a small smile making its way onto his face. He was obviously amused by the memory of this event—or was he merely amused by the boy's palpable discomfort?_

_ The boy—taller than he himself was, he noted with displeasure—scoffed. "_You_ fell into that nightmare, Master, and I rescued you, remember?"_

_ "Oh... yes," he said, even though that was certainly not how it had been the way _he_ recalled it. He laughed quietly, and a moment later the other joined him, most of the tension relieved._

_ "You're sweating. Relax. Take a deep breath," he advised. He wondered why he was so nervous about seeing these people. He knew Padme—Senator Amidala, he reminded himself sternly, he must call her Senator Amidala when in public, even though it was well known that they were old friends—and he knew that the two got on very well._

_ "I haven't seen her in _ten years_, Master," he replied. The elder merely smiled and shook his head a little, knowing that Anakin was just nervous about making a good impression on the woman his memories had elevated to the status of a goddess—_

* * *

Obi-Wan woke suddenly, and it was only through long habit that his body stayed in its former position, not giving away any sign that he was awake. He felt around with the Force, trying to sense anyone with ill will towards him; there were none, only the usual opportunistic thugs and rogueish traders. He sat up, opening his eyes, and was greeted by the familiar interior of the dim, rusted cabin.

Forcing his attention away from the dreams had become second nature to him by now, after having them nearly every night. As he had promised Master Yoda, he had long ago decided that unless the Force guided him down a particular path, he would not dwell on them, and dwell he did not—although, in the past year, they had grown steadily stronger and more varied; sometimes, he saw himself as an old man with white hair, secluded in the remote desert of Tatooine—

With a frustrated sigh that he quickly released into the Force, Obi-Wan firmly told himself to focus on the present. Rising from the rigid bunk that had become his over the last two years, he stretched slightly and reached for the jacket slung carelessly over the back of the chair before palming the door open. Tugging the black jacket on, he made his way down the hall towards the bridge. As he passed each crewman, they grew silent, stepping almost instinctively out of his way to allow him to pass them. Obi-Wan didn't spare any of them a second glance, staring firmly ahead at the door to the bridge. As he approached, it slid open for him, opened by a crewman waiting for his arrival.

Stepping onto the bridge of the ship, Obi-Wan blinked to force himself to acclimate to the brighter area before going to stand just behind the captain's chair. He clasped his hands behind his back, waiting to be acknowledged.

"Ben," finally came the gravelly voice of their captain—Viris. He swivelled around in his chair to look at Obi-Wan, who regarded him patiently but dispassionately. Viris had probably been handsome, at one time, before he had grown scarred and hardened by his work. His physical deformities, however, bothered Obi-Wan far less than the damage to his significantly darkened Force signature—which, by now, bothered Obi-Wan not even in the slightest.

"Where're we headed tonight, Cap'n?" Obi-Wan asked in the lazy drawl he had adopted early on in his tenure with this crew.

"Second moon of Q'taris," he answered tersely before a smile grew over his face. "If you live up to your usual persuasive techniques, we'll be celebrating before the evening meal. Make sure you give the lads something to celebrate, hm, Ben?"

"I'll be sure to," Obi-Wan answered, and Viris curled his lip in what passed for his attempt at a smile before turning himself back to observe the rest of the bridge. Obi-Wan remained for a time, taking the opportunity to be still and indulge in meditation—or as close as he could come, doing his best to centre himself in the Force—

* * *

_It seemed almost like a three-way battle at times, Obi-Wan noted as he continued to fight Count Dooku, not a two-on-one fight. With the way Anakin was ignoring him, you mightn't be able to tell he was Anakin's master at all._

_ Obi-Wan had a hard time believing that the man who had trained his own master was capable of such actions, such atrocities, but he pushed his own feelings aside for the moment and concentrated on the present—funny, he reflected, how he could not for the life of him master that skill until _after_ the man who had tried to teach it to him was dead._

No more thinking_, he told himself sternly. _Just concentrate on keeping you and Anakin alive.

_It was at that moment that Anakin was thrown against a wall, one arm severed. Rage filled Obi-Wan for a moment, but only a moment. He took a deep breath and brought his 'saber up once more as he released his anger into the Force. It would do him no good to fight with anger; Dooku's rage was far stronger than his own._

_ He failed to catch the Sith, and he was lying on the ground, a large metal cylinder about to come crashing down on him, when—_

* * *

"Obi-Wan!" He woke with a start to the sound of someone calling his name, and, as ever, felt around with the Force, his eyes flying open as he encountered a familiar signature. He frowned, sitting up to look around. This was the bridge of that dilapidated cruiser, all right, but where was the crew?

"It's been quite a while since anyone's called me that," he said quietly, cautiously. Though the presence was familiar, he couldn't quite place it, and though he sensed no immediate danger, that meant little, these days.

"Oh, thank the Force," he heard the other say with a relieved sigh. "I didn't know if you were going to wake up." Obi-Wan frowned. He knew that voice—if only he could remember who it belonged to...

"Garen?" he asked. It had taken him a moment to remember his friend's voice. It had been two years since he'd spoken to a Jedi other than Master Yoda or Master Windu.

"Glad to see you haven't forgotten me," his friend said, and Obi-Wan could hear the smile in his voice, though he couldn't see him—which brought on another question.

"Why is it dark in here?"

Any trace of amusement was gone when Garen spoke again. "All of the power we have is being used to try to get us to Coruscant."

"Coruscant?" Obi-Wan said. "But we were headed for Q'taris, one of the moons-"

"Obi-Wan," Garen interrupted, "that's where I found you. Though I'm not surprised you don't remember."

"Why?" he asked with a frown. "What happened? Where are Viris and the crew?" Garen hesitated before answering.

"Viris is dead," he answered. "He was when I found you—your cover was blown. I'm not entirely sure what happened myself. Master Yoda sensed that I should come for you, and so I did." The Force fluttered around Obi-Wan, telling him that his friend had lied, although he didn't know why he had, or why he would. For the moment, he simply accepted the answer, searching his own memories. He remembered nothing more than yet another of his visions.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair—much longer than it had been when he was a padawan—and caught sight of Garen staring at him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Sorry," his friend said quickly, looking away with a small shake of his head. "You're just... different." Obi-Wan winced at his friend's soft, hurt tone. They hadn't heard from each other in two years, and now Obi-Wan was subjecting his friend to one of his fits.

"No, I'm sorry," he said, getting his anger under control, and releasing it into the Force. He took a deep breath and fixed a smile onto his face even though he knew it couldn't be seen. "How have you been? How is everyone at the Temple? I usually don't have enough time to ask when I speak to Master Yoda or Master Windu."

Garen was quiet for a moment. "I'm good. I've been getting better missions. I've started going down to see the Initiates, seeing if there's anyone I feel connected to."

"You'll make a wonderful master. Whoever you choose as a padawan will be quite lucky."

"Thank you, Obi. That means a lot to me, coming from you," Garen replied, just before the ship lurched. "Oh, we must be coming out of hyperspace now. We're almost there, then—twenty minutes tops." He glanced back at Obi-Wan who was still sprawled out on the floor. "You might want to meditate before we land. Get some rest." Obi-Wan nodded, sensing that there was yet another secret being kept from him, but said nothing as he came to rest on his knees, bowing his head and gathering the Force around him.

The two were separated when they reached the hangar, both pulled aside by Council members. They parted without a word, Obi-Wan giving his friend a small, tired smile. He was met with a nod.

"I'm worried, Master," Garen told Master Windu. "He seems... different. And I told you how I found him, what had happened."

"I'm sure he is different, Knight Garen," the Master responded simply. "It _has_ been two years since you last saw him. As for what happened... Master Yoda has decided to intervene." The '_finally_' at the end of the master's sentence went unsaid, though certainly not unheard. "Obi-Wan will be in good hands."

* * *

Obi-Wan fully expected to be taken to the Council room to give his report immediately after leaving the hangar, but Yoda began to lead him down, towards the Halls of Healing.

"Where are we going, Master?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"To the infirmary, we go," Yoda answered, humoring him. "Help, you will need." Obi-Wan frowned. Both Garen and Master Yoda knew something he didn't, but what _was_ it?

"Why?"

"Find out, you will," the Master said in his usual cryptic manner. Obi-Wan bristled, indignance rising at the secrecy before letting out a slow, calming breath and releasing it into the Force.

They reached the infirmary and Obi-Wan palmed the door open, resigned to his fate. He immediately tensed as he heard a familiar voice-

"No, Anakin. Master Yoda is coming soon; we don't have time for that." Qui-Gon—his former Master. He was talking to Anakin—the one who had ruined the mission on Tatooine.

He fought to keep his anger in check as he heard Anakin say, "I'm sure my master won't mind if we go for a _quick_ spar-"

The door was now fully open and Obi-Wan found himself face-to-face with his former mentor. He hadn't changed at all in the two years they'd been apart—he still wore his long, brown hair, touched with grey, in the same style, his beard still as thick and dark as ever. He even wore the same color robes, that tan that Obi-Wan despised because it reminded him of the sand on that dreadful, hot planet. Surprise flickered through his blue eyes as he met his former padawan's steely gaze.

"Obi-Wan," he breathed.

The moment was broken—Obi-Wan gave him a curt nod, then stepped aside for them to pass. Neither Qui-Gon nor Anakin moved.

"What're you wearing?" asked Anakin finally. Obi-Wan glanced down at himself and nearly groaned—he had forgotten that he'd never changed back into his Jedi robes, still wearing the tight black pants, boots, and jacket befitting a smuggler and drug dealer, which couldn't be farther from proper Jedi attire.

"Nevermind, Padawan," said Yoda. "For a mission, these clothes were, to hide him. Wear them, Jedi do not. Imitate him, you will not."

Anakin pouted visibly, but said, "Yes, Master." Obi-Wan blinked in surprise, remembering belatedly that he was Master Yoda's padawan, and not Qui-Gon's.

"It was kind of you to come to see me, Anakin," said Qui-Gon, breaking his train of thought, "but I believe you have a class to attend?"

"Oh!" the young boy exclaimed and slapped his palm to his forehead. "Advanced physics! I totally forgot! I'm sorry, Masters—I'll see you later!" He raced off down the corridor, ignoring a few Knighs who attempted to tell him to slow down.

Yoda chuckled. "Energetic, he is."

"Yes, quite so," Qui-Gon said, but his voice was distant now, as though he wasn't really focused on the conversation. Obi-Wan looked to him and saw his former master watching him intently.

"Talk later, you can," Yoda said. "Medical attention, Obi-Wan needs." Obi-Wan saw the startled concern in Qui-Gon's gaze even as he nodded and moved out of the way.

"Of course," he said. "I will find you later, then. Good day, Obi-Wan." He didn't walk away, instead watching as Obi-Wan gave him a small, stiff bow and walked off into the medical centre. For a split second, Obi-Wan wanted to hit something, but the anger and frustration were gone as quickly as they had come, leaving him feeling awkward and disconcerted as Master Yoda led him down the hall.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Apologies again for the short chapter-hence the reason for uploading two so closely together. I hope everyone's enjoying this, and that no one is bothered by the obvious changes from the original.

Read on!

* * *

_Qui-Gon was dead, his body lying in the middle of a pyre as sombre mourners looked on. He stood next to Anakin, the hood of his dark brown robe pulled up, hiding his face in shadows. He didn't want anyone to see the tears in his eyes, he didn't want them to know that he wasn't remembering the Jedi saying about death even as it repeated it to himself._

_ There is no death, there is only the Force... There is no death, there is only the Force..._

_ It didn't help._

_ He turned to the young boy next to him, praying to the Force that the unshed tears couldn't be seen._

_ "What will happen to me now?" Anakin asked. Obi-Wan knew that Anakin was worried, for he understood that Qui-Gon had been his main supporter in his wish to be trained as Jedi._

_ "The Council have granted me permission to train you," he answered. "You will be a Jedi—I promise." He'd made that promise to Qui-Gon as well, and had no intention of breaking it._

_ Anakin nodded, and they both turned back to the burning body of his former master. He knew that he wasn't alone in his grief—he could feel it all around him. In a strange way, it gave him comfort..._

* * *

"Master! Master, wake _up_!"

Obi-Wan's eyes flew open as his usual attempts to reach out with the Force failed. Sitting up suddenly, he ignored a bout of nausea that passed over him and a bolt of pain going through his head as he groped desperately for the Force, trying to pull it around him. It was there, but weak, slipping away from his clumsy attempts to call to it-

"Master?" Obi-Wan's attention turned for the first time to the voice that had woken him, and he took in his surroundings, calming slightly. Beside his bed was only Anakin, visiting him in the infirmary—he was ill, he recalled. That was why he had trouble reaching the Force. It would return to him, in time.

"I am not a master, Anakin," Obi-Wan corrected, doing his best to keep his voice level and free of pain, not wanting to scare the boy. "I am a Knight."

"I know," Anakin assured him, cheeks colouring in embarrassment at his error. "I just... it _feels_ like I should call you 'Master.'" Obi-Wan was silent for a moment, desperately trying not to allow his thoughts to turn to the Anakin in his visions, in those nightmares he had each night—the Anakin who called him Master, who some days worshipped him as the perfect Jedi, and who, other days, apparently tried to kill him, to force him down into a pit of lava, pure hate in his eyes-

"You have a master," Obi-Wan pointed out, and Anakin lowered his eyes. He felt shame radiating from the boy—shame at forgetting his own master. Obi-Wan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wondering how badly he was going to damage the boy in a matter of minutes.

"What were you dreaming about?" Anakin asked abruptly, and Obi-Wan blinked, the image of his master's body consumed by fire returning to his mind unbidden.

Before he could register what he was doing, he said, "I was dreaming about how things might have been if Master Qui-Gon had died on Naboo."

"Oh," Anakin answered, eyes wide. "What happened?"

"I was Knighted and then I took you as my padawan," he said simply. Anakin blinked rapidly, eyes ever so wide, and he didn't seem to have changed very much from the boy Obi-Wan had met on the ship leaving Tatooine a little more than two years ago—he was nothing like the boy, the man, that Obi-Wan saw each night.

"Qui-Gon—Master Jinn, I mean—talks about you all the time. I bet you would've been a really good master," Anakin said, and Obi-Wan had to resist the urge to snort in disbelief. _Not from what I've seen_, he thought. The boy frowned then, and rushed on. "Not that I'm not happy with Master Yoda, of course, it's just..."

"Just what?" Obi-Wan prompted gently, and wondered why he was playing counselor to this boy. He had made his choice to avoid Anakin at all costs years ago, when these visions began and he saw the danger in them—

"Sometimes I don't know how much he understands me," Anakin admitted softly, fidgeting in the chair next to Obi-Wan's bed. "I mean, he's nice—most of the time, except for when I forget stuff, like my homework—but he doesn't understand how I think. Sometimes I wonder if he wants to be my master at all." The padawan took a deep, nervous breath and glanced up at Obi-Wan. He could tell that the boy had been hiding these doubts for a very long time—but why choose to confide in Obi-Wan? And why now?

"If he didn't want you, he wouldn't have taken you as his padawan," Obi-Wan answered finally, half his attention going to his aching head. "He knows that it wouldn't be fair to you. As for understanding how you think, well..." He gave Anakin a small, lopsided grin. "Master Yoda has not been a child for a very, very long time. He's probably forgotten what it feels like."

Anakin giggled a little, letting loose a smile of his own. Then he suddenly became serious. "I came to see you because I wanted to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"I have... dreams too sometimes," Anakin said, biting his lip. "You're in them, a lot of the time, and... I don't know, they don't make any sense. There's a war, and you're a general, which is just stupid, because you're a Jedi, not a soldier—" He stopped short at the look on Obi-Wan's face. Both were silent for a long moment. "You... know about it too, don't you?"

"I've had the same... dreams, sometimes, yes," Obi-Wan admitted with a deep frown. "Have you spoken to Master Yoda about these dreams of yours?" Anakin scowled and nodded, and Obi-Wan's lips twitched in an involuntary grin. "Let me guess, he told you not to dwell upon what 'might' be?"

"And he said that trying to change the bad things that _might_ happen could make worse things happen," Anakin said. Obi-Wan nodded, having gotten the same advice many times from the diminutive master. "'Trust in the Force, you must,' he says, and, 'know the right choice, in the moment, you will'-" Obi-Wan struggled to contain his laughter at the boy's impression of his master, but found that he couldn't. After a moment, Anakin gave a reluctant grin as well.

"I shall make a point to speak to him again," Obi-Wan said. "If we are both having the same... dreams, then there is more to this than either of us might have realised at first—perhaps even more than Master Yoda realised." Anakin nodded, and Obi-Wan hoped that the boy had not had _all_ of the same visions he had.

"Master Jinn wants to come to see you," Anakin said after a moment. "But he doesn't know if you want to see him. He said when he saw you yesterday you were... different." Obi-Wan felt a stab of guilt for the way he had reacted towards his master—two years since he had last seen him, and he couldn't even look the man in the eye.

Obi-Wan frowned, and then sighed, reaching up again to rub his forehead as pain coursed through him. "I don't know, Anakin."

"Why not?" the boy asked. "Are you mad at him?"

"No," Obi-Wan answered, "it's just... complicated." He didn't understand it himself, the way that anger and fear would sometimes spring up at the mere mention of the man's name.

"Oh. So... can he come?" Anakin asked, then bit his lip in anxiety and anticipation.

"Maybe sometime a little later," Obi-Wan conceded, and Anakin instantly brightened.

"I have to go," Anakin said after a moment. "I have class..."

"It was nice to see you again, Anakin." Obi-Wan was surprised to find that he meant that quite sincerely. He searched his mind and found that he harboured no negative feelings for Anakin—for _this_ Anakin, anyway.

The boy slid out of the chair and left the room with a certain bounce in his step that made Obi-Wan smile. _Oh, to be young again_. He sat back against the pillows and decided that if his headache would go away, it wouldn't be a half-bad day.

* * *

The fever set in quickly, and Obi-Wan became unaware and incoherent. He lay sweating, murmuring incomprehensibly, for hours, the Healers looking down on him with pity, unable to provide him with anything to dull his obvious pain.

This was how Qui-Gon found his former padawan when he came to see him. He stood stiffly beside the bed, taking in the changes that he had only been able to glimpse during their brief encounter the previous day: Obi-Wan's hair was longer, and, in his restlessness, he had mussed it—Qui-Gon unthinkingly reached out to smooth it down, withdrawing quickly when the contact seemed to agitate Obi-Wan further; he had a beard as well, and Qui-Gon felt his lips twitch in amusement, affection coursing through him at the likeness to himself, although he was certain that Obi-Wan had grown it in an attempt to appear older—he had often complained of looking far younger than his years.

Now, however, he looked older, wearier, weaker than anyone a mere twenty-four years of age should, his face drawn and pale, dark circles beneath both eyes. Qui-Gon closed his eyes and tried to release the worry he felt into the Force—he opened them only a moment later, when Obi-Wan began to murmur in agitation again, his eyes open, but unseeing, his brow furrowed, covered in sweat.

"Qui-Gon?" he said, staring in wonder at his master. The elder gave him a soft smile, trying to send a wave of familiar warmth and comfort through their disused bond. As the light touch reached his mind, Obi-Wan flew to an upright position, shaking his head. "No—_no—_can't be—"

"Obi-Wan?" he questioned, reaching again for him, but drawing back his hand as Obi-Wan recoiled from him, looking at him with obvious fear and anger.

"_No_," he gasped, his breathing laboured, "can't be Qui-Gon... Qui-Gon is _dead_-"

"Obi-Wan, I am not dead, I am perfectly fine and sitting right next to you," he said softly, voice level and soothing. Obi-Wan shook his head, clutching at the blankets that had been piled over him.

"_No_," he said, louder this time, verging on a shout, "Qui-Gon is _dead—stop _it—you aren't _him_-"

"_Padawan_," Qui-Gon said this time, more forcefully than before, and the younger Jedi froze for a moment, his eyes clearing for a moment before the fever took hold once more. Qui-Gon took advantage of the other's stillness to reach out and touch his shoulder, trying to gently push him back down—he didn't have enough energy to spare, exerting himself like this...

"You're supposed to be _dead_," Obi-Wan said weakly, fighting Qui-Gon's attempts to lower him. He put a second hand on his former padawan's other shoulder, and Obi-Wan twisted desperately, fighting to get away from him. "You're supposed _to be dead_!"

It was a shout this time, one that threw Qui-Gon entirely off-balance, and Obi-Wan took advantage of his momentary confusion, lifting both hands and with a _push_-

Qui-Gon found himself up against the wall, pinned there by the Force, and he felt bile rising in his throat as he recognised the long-absent feelings of cold, angry, fearful, _Dark_-

Sending a powerful sleep suggestion to Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon palmed the door open and fled.

* * *

_Heat, fire, all around him—he was struggling to stay calm, to fight the feelings he knew would only hurt (pain, betrayal, fear, anger, _love_)-and he could feel Anakin—no, _Vader—_seething with pure rage—_

_ "It's over, Anakin," he called. "I have the high ground!" His once-padawan looked at him with contempt._

_ "You underestimate my power!" It was a childish statement, one he wished hadn't been made, for he knew what was to come._

_ "Please, don't try it, Anakin!"_

_ He did—Anakin leapt over his head, and he struck. His former apprentice fell to the ground, limbs severed, crying out in pain—_

_ "You were the _Chosen One_!" he screamed, tears falling freely, more than he had allowed himself for his own Master. "You were supposed to destroy the Sith, not _join_ them!"_

_ More screams, more hate, anger, pain, _rage—

_ "You were my _brother_, Anakin!" It was over, now. "I loved you."_

_ It was over._


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **Well, another short chapter. I'm trying to move the action forward, though, so the questions will start to be answered soon.

Do enjoy!

* * *

Qui-Gon had been kneeling in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, listening to the calming rush of water around him, attempting to meditate for over three hours when Mace sought him out. Though he could clearly sense that his friend was in a light meditative state—more restful than reflective, in truth—he observed proper etiquette and knelt down himself beside Qui-Gon, waiting for the other Jedi to acknowledge his presence. It took only a few minutes before Qui-Gon pulled himself back to the present moment with a small sigh, shifting slighty in discomfort as he acknowledged Mace with a simple nod of his head.

"What's troubling you?" Mace asked, voice quiet and even. A small smile flickered across Qui-Gon's face—even when acting in support as a friend, Mace Windu was nothing if not blunt, and to the point.

"I find a great deal troublesome, my friend," he admitted. Mace inclined his head slightly and waited for Qui-Gon to continue, allowing him to sort through his thoughts at his own pace. "Last night, with Anakin—Master Yoda told you that he had a... vision, of sorts?"

"He did," Mace said simply, and although Master Yoda had confided in him far more detail than that, he waited for Qui-Gon to elaborate.

"The boy woke, frantic, in the middle of the night, screaming that I had died," Qui-Gon began. "Even when I arrived to show him that he was mistaken, he insisted that he had seen me die on Naboo, killed by the Sith after Obi-Wan failed to save me." Qui-Gon shook his head, his long-healed abdominal wound aching sympathetically at the memory.

"Such a nightmare would be understandable for a young boy, especially one so... unpredictable as Anakin Skywalker," Mace stated, attempting to draw out his friend's point. Qui-Gon arched an eyebrow, well aware that Mace knew the true nature of their problem, but continued.

"It is far more... _troubling_ when I think back to Obi-Wan's words in the infirmary. He, too, was insistent that I was dead—that I could not possibly have been there in the room with him at that moment because I had died then." Qui-Gon paused, shaking his head and closing his eyes, unable to meet Mace's gaze. What happened after, he knew, Master Yoda had not revealed to anyone. "He became... hysterical when I tried to use our bond to reach out to him—because he never had a proper ceremony, it was never severed—" Mace nodded once in recognition, urging Qui-Gon to continue. "-and began to grow... agitated." He frowned at his friend, wondering what had happened that he was so reluctant to reveal.

"Qui-Gon," he interrupted. "What did he do?"

"It seemed like nothing, in the moment," Qui-Gon murmured, almost to himself, "a small Force-push, to shove me away from him."

"There is more to it than that."

"It was what I sensed when he did so," he admitted finally. "I haven't felt anything like it in two years, but it was unmistakeable, Mace." He allowed himself, finally, to look at Mace, who was obviously struggling to maintain a serene exterior. "Obi-Wan used the Dark Side of the Force."

* * *

Obi-Wan had not grown any more coherent in the hours since he so forcefully acted against his former master. He continued to thrash and sweat and cry out in his fever-dreams, his visions, while the Healers looked on helplessly.

Less than an hour after his own vision, shared with Obi-Wan, Anakin had taken up a vigil at the knight's bedside, watching over him with worried, confused eyes.

* * *

_ "What took you so long?"_

_ "Oh, you know, Master—I couldn't find a speeder that I really liked..."_

* * *

Neither Jedi took any notice when the three masters—Qui-Gon, Mace, and Yoda—took up residence just outside Obi-Wan's room.

"Strange, this is," murmured Yoda to the two fellow masters. "A strong connection, I sense they have."

"Perhaps it has something to do with these visions they've both been having," Mace speculated. "It seems that Obi-Wan took him as his padawan after Naboo. Their sudden closeness might be a symptom of seeing this relationship in their visions." Yoda hummed quietly, then shook his head.

"More to this question, I sense there is. Draws them together, the Force does—their beliefs only, it is not." Qui-Gon nodded absently—he, too, could sense the connection apparent between the two, the Force flowing strongly between them. He frowned in reflection; although the Force was undeniably strong with them, drawing them—almost forcing them—closer, it was not always... peaceful, or pleasant. Mistrust and anger sometimes forced its way into the connection before fading away, and both Jedi were at fault. Perhaps that was a product of their visions as well?

"I have another question entirely," Qui-Gon admitted after a moment, drawing himself out of his thoughts. "What is wrong with Obi-Wan? He didn't seem at all ill when he first arrived."

"He wouldn't have been," Mace replied, weariness and a touch of sympathetic sadness entering his voice. "What ails Obi-Wan is... complex."

"Dangerous, his mission was," Yoda continued, taking up the explanation. "Difficult choices, he faced. End well, it did not."

"I don't understand."

"Hmm. Know himself, he does not. For you to know, he would not wish, if knew himself, he did," Yoda said, conflicted.

"Please, Master," Qui-Gon murmured, "I wish to help him, but my hands are tied if I do not know what is wrong." Yoda closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the Force around him, asking for guidance. Finally, he nodded.

"Killed, he did, a man he knew, at the end of his investigation. Guilty, the man was, but troubling, the circumstances are." Yoda paused, taking comfort in the whirling Force around them. "Influenced, Obi-Wan was, by powerful forces."

"Influenced...?" The memory of his former padawan using the Dark Side to push him so violently away came to him unbidden, but Mace was quick to reassure him.

"His friend, Knight Muln, was the one to retrieve him, and sensed no Darkness in Obi-Wan," he said, and a small measure of relief was allowed to Qui-Gon. "At the time, he was drugged."

"By whom?" he asked. "They are the true party responsible—is that what led to Obi-Wan's illness?"

"He took the drugs himself," Mace said, "but you must understand—this was not irregular, in his missions. It was intended that he would play his part, which sometimes included such acts, although he was supposed to use the Force to purge the drugs from his blood. Why he failed to do so, we have yet to find out."

"And his illness?" pushed Qui-Gon further.

"Withdrawal," Mace answered bluntly, but with obvious regret. "At least partially. His long-term exposure to such drugs was... damaging." Anger flared in Qui-Gon at the idea of what had happened to his padawan before he released it into the Force with a slow, deliberate breath.

"What, exactly, was his mission?"

"Initially he was sent to the Outer Rim to investigate a group of bounty hunters working against the Senate—little more than assassins, at the behest of someone unknown. However, over time, a wider plot came into view, and we allowed Obi-Wan to pursue it over time. He had managed to get into the good graces of several of the... group, and was gather evidence to present to the Council and the Senate when his mission ended."

"Ended because of this... killing," Qui-Gon said, and Mace nodded.

"We have more than enough evidence to proceed on several different fronts, but, naturally, he is bothered by his inability to continue," Mace said. "However, he has no memory of what happened before he was retrieved by Knight Muln."

"Tell him, you must not," Yoda advised sternly. "In time, we will—blame himself, he would, now. Unsettled, he is, by other forces."

_Those damnable visions,_ Qui-Gon thought bitterly. "Of course, Master," he agreed as he calmed. "I will say nothing to him on this matter." Yoda nodded in satisfaction before turning back to look at the knight and padawan in the room before them.

Anakin, contrary to his normally restless self, had sat still in the chair beside Obi-Wan's bed for hours, simply staring at the sleeping figure. His expression was troubled, and doubt and fear ruled the Force around him. Yoda gently sent a patient pulse of calm to Anakin, who blinked and looked up, smiling tensely at the Masters before giving his full attention back to Obi-Wan.

"Why would they have the same visions?" Qui-Gon murmured, mostly to himself.

"Strange, it is," agreed Yoda in lieu of an answer. "Tangled is the web of the Force around them. Understand, yet, we do not. Wait for the Force to reveal its intentions, we must."

* * *

Obi-Wan woke slowly, and naturally, and _comfortably_ for the first time in... years, he thought. There had been no visions to disturb his sleep and wake him abruptly, a welcome change. He was aware of Anakin's still presence beside him, his anxiety bleeding into the Force around them, and ignored him as he himself reached out to the Force, allowing it to wash over him. Finally, when he felt sufficiently calm, he opened his eyes and turned to Anakin.

The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Instinctively, Obi-Wan reached out to Anakin with his mind, brushing lightly against the boy's shields. Anakin's eyes went wide, and Obi-Wan prepared to withdraw, thinking that he had alarmed the boy—

An instant later, all of Anakin's shields had dropped, and he opened his mind fully to Obi-Wan. There was no fear as Anakin reached out in return, only... desperation? Obi-Wan kept himself calm in the face of this, and sent calming, comforting waves to him. Tears sprang into Anakin's eyes and he launched himself to Obi-Wan, landing with a thud as he scrambled to wrap his arms around the elder's neck in a desperate embrace, beginning to sob.

Obi-Wan grimaced as Anakin's movements reminded him of his battered body, then slowly raised his own arms to hug the boy in return.

_Master_, Anakin sobbed, and it took Obi-Wan a confused beat to realise it had been broadcast through the impromptu bond. _Master!_

Too tired to fight or question what had happened, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the bond. _Yes, Anakin. I am here. I will not leave you—I will not fail you again._ He frowned in confusion at his own statement, eyes struggling to open again, but sleep pulled at him, and less than a second later, both slept.

* * *

"Impossible, this should be," Yoda murmured, still standing outside of the room, watching intently.

"What is it?" asked Qui-Gon. Although he had felt... _something_ shift in the Force, he could not identify what it had been.

"A bond, they have formed," he said, brow furrowed as he reached out.

"A kinship bond?" Mace inquired. "The Force was already drawing them close—it has been known to form spontaneously." Yoda shook his head, eyes narrowing.

"A master he had already," he murmured, referring to himself, "yet a training bond, this is." Quiet surprise filtered through both Qui-Gon and Mace, and they exchanged glances.

"A padawan cannot form two training bonds—it isn't possible," Qui-Gon stated, and Yoda nodded in acknowledgement.

"Gone, my bond is, with Anakin," he said, staring into the room at the two slumbering Jedi. "His master now, Obi-Wan is."


End file.
